Time of Vigil
by Silraen
Summary: The tale of Celebrian and her abduction by orcs in the Redhorn Pass
1. Default Chapter

Time of Vigil

To Say Farewell

_How lovely it is here...never can I tire of the Wood's golden sheen and lush beauty,_ Celebrian, daughter of the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, thought to herself as she gazed out into the early morning, breathing in the pungent, almost spicy scent upon the light breeze.

Smiling gently to herself, her thoughts drifted...back to Imladris, to her beloved husband and to her three, beautiful children, all awaiting for her to return. Ever since she had married Elrond, Celebrian had always made it tradition to visit the land of her birth every spring, and to dwell amongst the shimmering mallorns until late summer. It was not that she loved Imladris less, yet always did she long to be with her parents and those whom she had grown up with just as much as she longed to be with her dearest husband and children.

Softly, the wind picked up, stirring her white-gold tresses away from her young face, her bright green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. _Next time, I shall have to bring Arwen with me... I know how she loves it here..._ She sighed gently, one hand coming to gather her hair, bringing the shining locks around so she could plait them. Slowly, her slender fingers began their weaving movement. _I should find Naneth and Adar...to tell them that this day is indeed that day I shall be leaving._

Galadriel knelt by the stream, her hair slung over her shoulder, falling in cascades as she leaned forward and ran her fingers through the gentle waters. This flowering glade was a place she came to often when her thoughts lingered on her daughter. Here Celebrian had run as a little girl, kicking the cool water and laughing, carefree and happy. It was as if the spirit of those moments had infused the woods here, echoing laughter thousands of years old.

Summer was drawing to a close. The footsteps of Autumn were already upon the land, surely waiting upon the doorstep of Imladris by now. The time was coming that their daughter would leave and though this is how it ever had been since their beloved child had departed, this time Galadriel felt the pull of ache more strongly. She watched the waters pass over her hand, conscious she was being watched. Yet she remained silent, waiting for her husband to make himself known, a small smile painting her lips.

With wonder, always, did the lord of the Galadrim look upon his beloved Queen. Still, though laden with the tarnish of years, she was yet the most radiant of all things he had ever known, and was still the captor of his aged heart. The strain of ages was bent in his brow, though never would he allow such a thing to weigh over him, he had long ago moved away from warring and found peace - beneath the mallorns he loved so dearly and in the embrace of the Lady of Light.

Each breath of the fresh, intoxicating air filled him with a gentle, yet bittersweet bliss. Long ago he recalled what splendor this glade held, how the flowers in the days to come would still be alive with the breath of summer in them. Now, before his crystalline gaze, the autumn rose early into the boughs of the flower trees and painted the leaves with gold, bronze, and crimson. In the same way, he knew his months with his beloved daughter, his only child, would be departing once more for Imladris, to return to her family and to her beloved.

He felt old suddenly. The very thought of the age of his grandchildren reminded him how much younger Thranduil and Elrond truly were. They was the last of their kind, the last of those who came first to Ennor, where now he felt his heart belonged, and though part of him lived also in Valinor, the ground beneath his feet, the freshness of the air, the company of his beloved, and the kingdom that flourished about him all captured his heart.

As she finished her plait, Celebrian began to slowly make her way down the winding, silver stair to the forest floor, and already a blanket of golden leaves covered the emerald green grass. Her small feet hardly made a sound upon the leaves as she entered a small grotto in which a small creek ran, bubbling joyfully, refractions of light bouncing off its clear surface. On the other side, her mother sat near the stream's edge, her slender hand trailing patterns in water. Behind Galadriel stood her father, his silver hair gleaming brightly in the sun, a sharp contrast to the deep gold of her mother's hair.

Whereas all of her own children, the twins and Arwen, looked very much like their father, inheriting his dark hair and eyes, she took after both her parents. Her hair color was a combination of both silver and gold, yet it was not deep in hue, but rather pale and translucent, like spider silk.

For a moment, she stood silent in the shadows of the great tree and simply watched them; seeing the tender look in her father's eyes as he gazed upon Galadriel. She could see that her mother knew he was there, observing the knowing smile that curved her lips and the light of amusement dancing in her blue depths. Celebrian sighed softly to herself, half wistfully. She could see herself and Elrond just as they were now...spending their mornings like this...seemingly frozen in a moment of time. _Soon..._ she thought to herself. _Soon we shall have time as they have it...as they share it._

Smiling, Celebrian stepped out from beneath the tree's low boughs and softly called to the other side, _"Maar artulie, Naneth a Adar."_

Hearing the sound of her daughter's voice filled Galadriel's heart with many emotions. Love, longing that her time here not come to an end, sorrow at the reality that it had. The Lady of Light stood up from her idle play at the stream, shaking the cold water from her hand. Already Celebrian stood near her father and for a moment time seemed to be captured and held still for her to enjoy. She had her father's quiet spirit, his loving ways. Such a beautiful image they were together, the two most important beings her life had been gifted with.

Approaching, she smiled at them both. "How fare you, my child?" she asked, knowing well her daughter missed her husband.

"I am well," Celebrian replied, smiling at her mother. "Though, as you know, I miss Elrond terribly, and the twins and my daughter as well. I will be sure to bring Arwen next season to visit both of you."

Celeborn smiled at the thought. He could recall when his grandchildren were mere elflings. "This would be marvelous," the Lord of the Galadrim spoke with his soft, yet powerful voice. The corners of his lips turned in a warm smile as he looked upon Celebrian. It seemed not too long ago to him even, that she was a small elfling running about the wood, dancing and spinning as she did. His heart lept with joy at the thought.

"Indeed," Galadriel gave her agreement, clasping her daughter's hand. The sweetness a summer with her granddaughter filled the Lady's heart. Too soon she would grow into a woman with cares of her own with little time to give the Golden Wood, so these fleeting moments needed to be enjoyed as they should be now.

Exhaling, Celebrian's mother ran her fingers across her daughter's moon and sunlight hair. The burden of being apart already began to settle in. "Elrond would say the same, as is his right, but for the sake of your father and I, I ask please do not tarry long in returning. We will miss you, my dearest."

She smiled at her mother, and then looked to her father. "And I shall miss you both very much...I always do whenever I am away from here and in Imladris," she added quietly. "My heart belongs to both places in which I am dearly loved." Her eyes shone. "And I know that I am ever blessed."

Galadriel smiled gently, then kissed her daughter's head. "It is indeed difficult, to have your heart in two places. We understand. When will you set out?"

"Today," she told them softly, "if, of course, Haldir and some of his men can be spared from their duties?" she asked.

Galadriel nodded with a soft smile. "Of course, my daughter. I will send for them at once."

Simulaneously as she embraced her daughter, Lady Galadriel reached out towards the Marchwarden's mind, gently speaking, _Haldir, I have need of you. Will you serve and see my daughter safely to Imladris?_

Not far from where the Lord and Lady of Light sat within the presence of their beloved daughter, the Captain of the Elven Guard stood over looking the change of the guard. For a moment he let his eyes close as he felt the call of the Lady of Light. And his answer, as always came quickly, _I would be honored, Hiril nin._

_Hannon le, Haldir. Bring with you one of your brothers and meet us in the glade by the stream,_ she breathed into the Marchwarden's thoughts, as always touched by his devotion to service.

Galadriel then turned her focus back upon her daughter. "He comes now, child. Ai, I will miss you."

Always prompt, it took only a few minutes for the Marchwarden to arrive at the glade, though with him was neither Rumil nor Orophin, but another Elven guard. Upon their approach Haldir bowed gracefully in greeting, the elf beside him following suit.

Lady Galadriel scanned the guard, then threw Haldir a questioning glance, though she trusted the Marchwarden's choices. He was honorable and wise. Instead her focus was upon this impending farewell with her daughter. Turning to Celebrian she said softly, "The time is come. May your trip be made in haste to see you reunited with your family, my daughter. And may the Valar protect you." A shadow seemed to fill her thoughts when she spoke those words to her child. Galadriel exhaled, knowing nothing in this life was certain. _Haldir, be careful._

For a moment the Marchwarden's gaze met the Lady's. _I shall, Hiril nin,_ he silently reassured her. _I could not spare neither Rumil nor Orophin...But I give you my word that Kellendill is as capable as any,_ he told her quietly, having noting her questioning glance.

_"Hannon le, Naneth._ I shall miss you and _Adar_ very much," Celebrian murmured to her mother softly in return.

Every parting with Celebrian brought sorrow to Celeborn's heart. She was so wise, so beautiful, yet he knew that no longer was she a small child, for there was the wear of years bent into her brow. "I shall miss you, _iell nin. I-Valar berio le, hen nin, o im iest le band lend na Imladris."_ {... my daughter. {May} the Valar protect you, my child, and I wish you a safe journey to Rivendell.} A wan smile pulled at the corners of the Lord of the Galadrim's lips. He had to smile, for never would he let them part in sorrow. _"Teli bar na min lagor."_ {Come home to us -soon-.}

She smiled up into her father's eyes. "I shall, _Ada,"_ she told him and embraced him for a moment before turning to embrace her mother. "I will return when spring next falls over the land," she said, stepping back. "I shall go ready myself, and my mare, and gather my belongings," she told them.

Galadriel nodded, again touching her daughter's hair. _"Guren naegra. No le mae, pentithen."_ (My heart aches. Be you well, little one.) Letting go of Celebrian, the Lady of the Wood accepted her husband's embrace and watched her daughter. _"Namarie."_

_"Namarie,"_ she said, giving them one last smile before making her way back through the trees to her home.

Once Celebrian reached her room, she swiftly gathered her possessions that she had laid upon the bed earlier that morning and placed them in her packs and satchels. She would have her maidens bring them down once the horses were saddled.

Smiling at the thought of her beloved horse, Glormire {Golden-jewel} Celebrian went from her room to the hidden field near the stables in which the steeds of Lorien were allowed to run free. They came as they always did, bright in the morning, racing one another, glorifying in the feel of the fresh grass beneath their hooves as they seemingly soared upon the wind. One horse, a mare the color of the palest sunlight ceased to run as she caught sight of her mistress. Glormire broke away from the herd, nickering as she loped lightly over to Celebrian. Smiling, she held out her hand to the mare, and Glormire nuzzled it in greeting, her velvet ears flicking back and forth.

"It's time to go home, _mellon nin,"_ she said, her hand stroking the mare's silken neck. Glormire had been her horse since she had been but a child; if ever nobility existed in horses, Glormire would have been the princess of her line. She had been a gift from her parents, and had been her mount upon many journies.

Glormire whickered, her dark, intelligent eyes gazing intently upon her mistress. Smiling, Celebrian walked her horse to the stable and one of the attendants readied her. Her heart filled with joy as she thought of her family as she mounted Glormire. How she missed them!

Swiftly, she guided the mare out into the sunshine to stand beside the other horse which bore all of her belongings, now waiting for the Captain of the Guard to come.

The Marchwarden approached her, his own mount, a proud looking stallion whose shinning coat was the color of moon beams, stood quietly by his side, its velvety ears flicked forward as if listening to his master's voice as he spoke in quiet tones to several of his patrol leaders, obviously giving them instructions of some sort. Celebrian looked over the gathered elven guards and soon she spotted the Elven Guard called Kellendill. He stood apart from the group as if uncomfortable. And next to the Marchwarden he seemed quite daunted, and though he too stood straight, he could not hold himself with such grace nor pride. A quick and kind smile brushed Celebrian's lips, it was obvious this elf was still new to the Guard.

With a few closing words to his men, Haldir placed a hand over his heart as was the elven fashion of greeting and farewell. With a nod of his head he dissmissed his men, and turned toward where Celebrian waited so patiently, signaling silently with a quick look for two other guards that Celebrian had not seen, to follow. These elves she recognized, the one mounted upon the chestnut stallion she knew as Kemmotar who kind green eyes glinted as he looked towards her, his blond locks stirring slightly in the breeze as he bowed his head in a silent greeting. The other, known as Namnatur, likewise bowed his head in greeting, his own blue eyes sparkling in the morning light, his light brown tresses tied simply back.

_"Maar artuile, Hiril nin,"_ The Marchwarden spoke in his usual fierce yet gentle tone as he and Namnatur, Kemmotar approached, with Kellendill lagging a few paces behind Namnatur.

_"Maar artulie, Haldir,"_ she replied, smiling gently at him. She had known the Marchwarden since she had been but a small child in her mother's arms.

Gently, Celebrian urged Glormire towards the guard, nodding to his men as she passed them. Eager to begin the journey, Glormire tossed her small head, her long white mane flowing in the gentle breeze as she pranced. The daughter of Galadriel laughed and patted her golden neck. "I am as ready as you are, perhaps even more so," Celebrian told her mount, then her green eyes, bright in the sunshine, turned to Haldir once more. She smiled. "I wonder how many times you have taken me to Imladris," she mused in gentle jest, laughing softly. "You and I shall set a record, I believe."

Haldir smiled goodnaturedly at her, "Indeed...I believe we may." He turned and swung gracefully up into his stallion's saddle and looked back to her. "Shall we take our leave then, Milady?"

"Indeed," she replied, joy ringing within her clear voice. Haldir turned his magnificent steed to the path leading out of Lorien, and Glormire moved after him with the rest of his men following behind her. Just before the last bend though, Celebrian gently reined in her mare and turned her head to look behind her; back to the majestic mallorn trees, the shimmering leaves, the lush foliage lining the banks of the river Nimrodel. Her eyes wandered over the beauty, drinking in the glory of the golden realm.

_Namarie..._

A sudden shadow of distant forboding drifted over her heart as she at last turned back to the path and gently urged Glormire to catch up with the captain, but the darkness was gone as soon as it came.

Smiling, her thoughts turned to her children and beloved husband. Already she could picture them in her mind's eye as she would ride into the courtyard, home at last. Arwen would be the first to run to her, embracing her as soon as her feet would touch the ground. Elladan and Elrohir would be the next to come forward, a bit more dignified than their sister perhaps, but not even pride could dampen the bright joy in their eyes to at last behold their mother again. Then Elrond would come to her once their children had released her, and he would take both her hands in his own and gaze at her, his eyes speaking volumes of how he had missed her, his thoughts caressing her own...delightful little touches that she loved so much...the touches that had endeared him to her long before they were wed...

This is a story written by many authors who belong to the Role-playing Forum: Worlds Apart.

Silraen: Celebrian, and orc second-in-command

Ruse: Galadriel, Mazbhal, and Elrond

Navana: Celeborn

Miluiel: Haldir, Kemmotar, Kellendill, and Namnatur


	2. The Redhorn Pass

Time of Vigil

The Redhorn Pass

His black hair hung carelessly down his shoulders against sickly, pale skin of a greenish color peeking from beneath the sleeves of his breastplate. Dark eyes sparkled in the sunlight he dared look upon. Standing there, hidden within the trees, Mazbhal considered his underlings as they huddled in loathing of the sunlight. A cruel smile painted his features as he neared one, gripped him by the hair and dragged him into a direct beam that shot through the massive trees.

The goblin beneath his hand struggled and screamed, then snarled as he attacked. Mazbahl shoved him aside easily despite his thin form. The goblin knew what would happen if his attacks became too serious.

Licking his razor sharp teeth, glaring at his companions, he hissed in a throaty, vile voice, "Such is the way I treat cowards."

Instantly the others made an effort, most of them, to at least appear as if they were as strong willed as he. He breathed in satisfaction, but he wanted more than this idle waiting. His thoughts dwelled on a young Elf maiden he had made sport of, whose body he had left back within the deep, dangerous forest of Mirkwood. So innocent, so tender.

Mazbhal was hungry for blood and screams again.

It was well near sundown when Celebrian and her escort stopped to make camp for the first night. After Haldir and his men had searched the glade to make sure it was truly safe, they motioned for her to dismount.

Sighing softly, she did as they bid her, slipping from her saddle and she stretched her milky-white arms far above her head, closing her eyes, feeling her muscles pull. Celebrian, because of all the riding that she did, was indeed extremely fit; and she had always made a point in keeping herself that way. Glormire whickered and nudged her mistress, rubbing her forehead against Celebrian's side. Taking the hint, she laughed. "Forgive me, love." And she immediately slid the bridal from the mare's head. The golden horse daintily lipped at Celebrian's silvery-white braid in thanks as she moved to take off the saddle as well. After, Celebrian stood back and observed Glormire affectionately. She was barely winded, even after so long a day of travel.

Smiling slightly, she stretched again, walking over to the small stream nearby and knelt, dipping her hands in the clear water and splashed her face. They were well out of Lothlorien now. Celebrian smiled, delicately shaking the droplets of water from her lashes. Haldir had indeed set a marvelous pace. It might only take three days instead of the usual four to five to reach their destination.

Mazbhal's second-in-command watched his leader, his own yellowish eyes gleaming in the growing dark of the land. He knew of what Mazbhal thought of. The commander grinned maliciously, his sharp fangs clicking together, his own blood lust mounting. "Do you smell prey yet?" the orc asked, his breath hissing as he came close to Mazbhal.

With a hungry look, Mazbhal inhaled the night air deeply, and as he did, his lids dropped in pleasant, hazy delight. Licking his moist teeth, he sniffed again to be sure, then hissed, "I smell it on the winds. The fair scent of elves close by." His hands curled reflexively as he eyed his commander with a dark intent.

"We ride tonight."

The commander, in turn, sniffed the wind, now scenting what his leader did. He then rose from his knees and made his way towards the rest, his eyes gleaming. "Get packing," he growled harshly, kicking the nearest one, who snarled. The commander slashed him, and the other howled in anger and pain. "Silence, scum! We ride tonight," he hissed, and slashed at the other again. "Mazbhal's orders. Do it now." His eyes scanned the rest, making sure they did as they were commanded.

With much effort his band was on the move. Mazbhal could nearly feel innocence in the air and he was thirsty for it. He hated elves, hated all but their screams and pleas. He wanted to taste that flesh again, to feel it moving in his grasp as he cut away and bruised and tormented.

They came nearby to a stream and there Mazbhal jerked the reins tied around his warg, causing it to growl in pain. He looked through glittery eyes for any sign of his prey. He could feel it ahead, the joy of the trees, the starlight striving to touch what could only be the repulsive blessedness of elves. It was sickening.

Pointing ahead with fierce determination, he breathed, "That way," and kicked his warg's flanks.

To the casual observer, the night was one of peace. With naught but a breath of a breeze, faint enough to cause no chill, yet having strength enough to stir the blades of grass within the small glade where the Lady Celebrian rested. Standing a ways back within the scant foliage, hands gracefully folded over his mahogany bow, was Namnatur, his keen blue eyes gazing heavenward in a silent admiration of the stars. But twenty paces behind him stood Kemmotar, likewise at ease, his own blonde tresses let down his strong shoulders and they shifted in the light night breeze.

Upon the very edge of the glade stood the Marchwarden, his cool blue gaze moving hither and thither across the clearing and surrounding land. Something was amiss, and Haldir was keen enough to sense it, thus as a precaution he had set such a vivacious pace. Hands clasped behind his back, Haldir looked over his shoulder to where both the Lady Celebrian and the young guard Kellendill rested. Even in the terms of elves, Kellendill at only fifty years of service to the Guard was still reletively young. Yet keen was his aim with a bow and quick was his instincts, giving the Marchwarden reason to choose him.

With a quiet sigh, Haldir returned his gaze to the land, his own instincts and years of experience giving him reason to be on watch. All day as they had rode on, there had been a lingering presence in the back of his mind. There was something that bode of a foul evil lingering nearby, and Haldir, for the sake of Lady Celebrian and his guards, wished to be far from it as quickly as possible. Ever prepared, Haldir let his hand fall to the sword at his side, pulling it free from it sheath several inches, then replacing it so that only an inch of the blade was free of the sheath. Such a move would allow the sword to be draw smoothly and easily. The exposed blade glinted a dim silver in the moonlight.

"How close?" the commander growled as he pulled his warg up to Mazbhal. "How much longer?" His own lust seemed to be mounting every moment...the need for blood. The need to torment. The need to ravage.

Celebrian sighed softly, leaning back against the lush grass as she allowed her eyes to roam the heavens, following the ancient patterns of the glittering stars. Glormire grazed nearby in the company of the stallions, the gentle swish of their tails and soft movements of their hooves were the only sounds that could be heard in the still night.

Yet, though she longed to sleep, to rest her tired eyes, she found that she could not - not even with the guards protecting her. An unease stirred in the back of her mind, though she could not imagine why she should be uneasy on such a glorious night.

Mazbhal grinned ruthlessly at his commander, sensing the lust in the other and feeling it mirrored within his own self. "Not far," he hissed, pointing ahead. "Light from a campfire." He licked his lips hungrilly, his hands gripping the leather reigns until his fists were marked by the edges. "We'll have some fun tonight, boys."

Not far from where the orcs tromped through the trees in search of firewood, Kemmotar stood on watch when he heard the sudden rustling and snaping of twigs and ferns as several, non too graceful creatures clawed their way through the bramble.

"No natural beast makes such a sound..." he murmured to himself as his hand moved to grip the hilt of his sword. Gracefully, he turned to look towards the Marchwarden, the question evident in his gaze. The calming gaze of the Marchwarden met his own, for likewise Haldir had heard the rustling as well. Solemnly, the Captain of the Guard nodded his assent, and as fleet as a deer, Kemmotar disappeared into the undergrowth drawing his sword as he went, the broad, silver, curving blade glinting faintly.

As soon as Kemmotar had moved into the surrounding trees, Haldir motioned for Namnatur to move into the clearing where the Lady Celebrian and young Kellendill lay. Silently Haldir moved to Kelledill's side where he gently touched the young guard upon the shoulder to wake him. At the Captain's light touch almost immeaditly Kellendill woke, sitting up. "What is it, Marchwarden?"

The concern within Haldir's cool gaze could clearly be seen. "Something unnatural stirrs within the trees. Rise, Kellendill, and make ready the horses." Underneath his usual calm voice the undertone of seriousness was clearly audible. "Quickly make haste, and be ready to ride." Kellendill nodded and quietly rose to his feet and left to do as Haldir bid him.

The smell of smoke was close. The firelight had disappeared. Mazbhal sneered darkly, knowing the elves would be prepared for them by the time they attacked. He kept his steely glint forward, knowing they were so close now. The hunger stirred within him.

"Faster!" he barked, hitting his warg's flank. The beast bolted hard, panting as it ran at his master's bidding.

When he saw a flash of golden hair ahead, Mazbhal grinned darkly.

No fool, Kemmotar herd the approaching beast, and ducking low he seemingly melted into the surrounding undergrowth, blending in. As he quickly ascended a nerby tree, taking refuge in its leafy and concealing branches. Drawing from its sheath an elven throwing knife, Kemmotar sat as if carved from stone, the blade ready in his hand.

Celebrian, sensing Kellendill leave her side, opened her eyes and sat up, seeing that the young warrior was readying the horses with apparent haste. The unease that she had felt earlier that eve came back to her, slowly at first, then it came in a swift rush. With a shadow looming over her heart, she rose to her feet and came quickly over to Haldir, who was saddling her mare.

"What is it?" she asked in a whisper; but she already knew...

Giving the saddle one last adjustment, Haldir turned to look at Celebrian. " I will not shade the truth from you, Hiril nin...creatures of malcontent draw near, and I would not remain hear any longer than I must."

"Around the other side!" Mazbhal barked, pointing towards the camp as they stormed into view. "Surround them!" He could hear the voices of his companions, hungry to obey that they might be rewarded this night with blood sport. He snarled inwardly, curling his fists around the reigns of his warg beast.

When he saw the elf, he drew his blade and headed straight for him. The elf was prepared and dodged, but that would not stop Mazbhal. He quickly wheeled on his prey with blazing eyes. As he turned he noticed a gentle figure climbing atop a horse. A female elf. Mazbhal licked his lips in anticipation.

The orc captain turned to face the elf once more and was rewarded with the sight of Kemmotar skillfully running his elven blade through one of his patrols. The orc screamed in pain before it collapsed to the ground, its life torn from it. Snarling, Mazbhal charged toward the elf and before Kemmotar could react, the orc had leaned down from atop the warg's back, and brutishly grabbed the elf's chin, exposing his long slender neck. It took but a moment for Mazbhal to draw his dagger swiftly across it. Kemmotar manged but one cry of warning to his companions before he fell slowly to the earth, uttering a prayer to Mandos that he would be welcomed into his halls of eternal peace with his last, dying breath.

Mazbhal laughed darkly, pulling the blade from the tender, pale flesh of his victim. The elf was dead by the time the orc's glittery eyes fell on his blood-drained face. Licking the blood off the blade, the captain savored the moment, but knew more was at stake than this sweet moment.

He let the elf's body drop to the earth and turned, searching for the female he had seen. When his eyes fell upon her form not far from him, her horse backed into a tree by two of his men, he grinned viciously and headed towards her with screams on his mind.

Sensing the fell beasts all about her, Glormire reared up, pawing the air with her hooves before she sprang away from them, snorting in terror. Celebrian dug her fingers into the mare's silken mane, clinging to her for dear life as they galloped from the glade.

The wind created by their swift movement stung Celebrian's face; the need to survive was strong within both horse and rider. Her long hair, gleaming silver, whipped out behind her as they ran on into the night. Yet she could hear the snarls of the pursuing wargs behind her. Her heart raced, hearing it beat within her very ears. Vaguely, she was aware of Haldir riding close beside her, hunched over the neck of his mount. _We must outrun them...we must lose them in the ravine..._

The second-in-command urged his beast after the female elf, his eyes hungry for her. This one was clever. But not clever enough. Knowing that Mazbhal would follow immediately, the commander gave chase, yelling orders to the others to help him trap her. It was not difficult to see in the darkness, and it made it even easier that her hair and mount were golden. Easy prey. Deliciously easy. The commander licked his lips and spurred his warg onward.

The second elf - one of the males - was with her. No...this would not do at all. He must die. But first... His eyes glinting with malice, he took an arrow from his back and slung it into the bow. The point glistened sharply in the moonlight...dripping with something...something that woud render her harmless - something that would drain the strength from her very being.

He aimed. And shot.

Suddenly - pain. Fire. Celebrian screamed. It felt as though her shoulder was being torn from her, and her arm dangled useless by her side. In sheer horror, she could feel herself slipping from the saddle, though she tried desperately to hold on to her horse...but her efforts were in vain.

Mazbhal licked his lips and headed straight for the fallen form, his senses allowing him to pay attention to nothing else. Hunger seized him like a blow as he looked on her lithe body. "Kill him!" he barked when one of his boys complained about a struggling male nearby. Honestly, he did not care what happened. He had eyes only for her.

With hunger in their eyes and evil in their hearts and minds, several orcs watched as another of their foul kind drew his dagger and advanced upon a helpless and captured Namnatur. The elf was forced to kneel, his hands bound so tightly behind his back that the bonds cut into his wrists, making them bleed. Already wounded, Namnatur looked to the heavens above as the orc advanced knowing that very soon he would join Kemmotar in the blessed Halls of Mandos. Even as the orc struck, driving the blade deep into Namnatur's heart, he cried out in a loud voice to Elbereth, praying that he would protect those who remained. With a snarl, the enraged orc drew his dagger free but even as he drove it into Namnatur once more, and the elf collapsed lifeless to the ground.

Even as the orc mercilessly slaughtered the helpless Namnatur, Kellendill watched onward in silent anger and hatred of these foul creatures. Kellendill looked ahead to where Haldir rode toward the motionless form of Celebrian. Yet even as the Marchwarden rushed to her, several orcs rode toward him, their cries of bloodlust piercing the night air. An orc amoungst them launched an arrow, its tip gleaming in the moonlight. Unable to dodge it in any way as he bent and placed Celebrian in the saddle, Haldir took the blow at full force in the shoulder, the arrow burying itself deeply in his flesh. Yet even with the force of the blow, Haldir did not fall from the saddle, and gripping Celebrian in his arms, he turned his horse and drove his stallion in an earth-shaking gallop. It was clear even to Kellendill that it wouldn't be long til the orcs caught up with the Captain, for the stallion that bore now both Haldir and Celebrian was already weary.

Drawing his bow, Kellendill nocked two arrows and as he let them fly and he rode forward, crashing through the orcs ranks as he sought to create enough of a distraction among them, and buy as much time for the Marchwarden as possible. Left and right did his arrows fly, each hitting their mark, though it wasn't without cost. As Kelledill charged through the orc's ranks, a captain threw its dagger which struck the elf in the side, toppling him from his horse. Ever valiant, Kellendil fought on, knowing that his own time upon this earth was drawing to its end. Drawing his sword, he cut down orc after orc as he fought his way back to his stallion. His blood smeared the horse's flank as he pulled himself up into the saddle taking an arrow to his back even as he did so. _"Noro lim, mellon nin! Noro lim!"_ Kellendill called out to his beloved stallion, refusing to fall into deaths embrace just yet.

Ever obedient and loyal, the horse falling upon its very last reserve of strength leapt forward, very nearly closing upon the orcs that rode after the Captain. Struggling now, every breath painfull to draw, Kellendill nocked an arrow upon his bow and after a moment, let it fly. True was his aim as it knocked an orc from its warg with a squeal of pain. Again, laborously, Kellendill drew another arrow and aimed, taking the life of yet another orc.

Yet as he sought to nock a third arrow to his longbow, an orc riding at the edge of the group turned and fired an arrow of its own. The crude weapon caught Kellendill in the shoulder, buring itself up to its thick shaft. The Elf cried out, nearly dropping his bow as he fell from his horse. By will alone did Kelledill rise from the earth and fire his third and last arrow, claiming the life of yet another orc. His strength spent, Kellendil fell to his knees as his horse trotted back to him, limping heavily, for several arrows had pierced its side.

_"Mellon nin..."_ Kellendill breathed as he reached out a bloodied hand to gently stroke the muzzle of his dying horse. Whickering softly, the stallion laid down beside him. Dimly, the elf heard the cry of the two wargs as they and their riders charged toward him. The calmness that comes before the final and fatal kiss of death took hold of him as Kellendill closed his eyes, tilting his head upward to feel the gentle moonbeams upon his face, he whispered aloud in a last prayer, _"Elbereth..fea nin na lin..._ (translation: Elbereth my soul is yours) It was with a smile upon his lips that he drew his sword and waited for the orcs to draw nearer.

Sneering, the orcs calmly and slowly drove their wargs forward. Jeering at the dying elf, an orc drew its crude bow and without an inch of remorse, sent an arrow into Kellendill's already wounded shoulder. The pain was overwhelming, and the elvenblade slipped from his numb grasp as Kelledill collapsed back against his horse. Snickering to themselves, the orcs, done with their foul deed, turned to rejoin their commander and Mazbhal in chase of the last elven male and the elven maiden, leaving Kellendill to die in agony.

This is a story written by many authors who belong to the Role-playing Forum: Worlds Apart.

Silraen: Celebrian, and orc second-in-command

Ruse: Galadriel, Mazbhal, and Elrond

Navana: Celeborn

Miluiel: Haldir, Kemmotar, Kellendill, and Namnatur


	3. Of Pain and Torment

Time of Vigil

Of Torment and Fear

She was so close now...the commander could smell her. He licked his lips, his breathing ragged as he urged his snarling warg closer to the galloping horse. He could see Mazbhal out of the corner of his eye, coming around on the other side. Baring his fangs in a evil smile, the orc unsheathed a rusted blade and, with a strong and swift movement, hurtled it into the male Elf's side.

He did not cry out as he fell, with the female in his arms, harshly to the ground, his head hitting a sharp rock on the edge of the path; then his entire form went limp and deathly still. The commander halted his beast near the fallen, pulling on the reins with force to keep it from snapping at the female. He could hear Mazbhal coming up behind him. He turned around and hissed to him, "The male is dead. But she's alive." He turned back to her as she lay quite still in the elf's now seemingly lifeless arms, his eyes glinting with malice and lust.

Celebrian, though she could barely move, was aware of what was happening...of the danger she and Haldir were in...of the feeling of fire burning her shoulder from the inside out. With her body almost completely numb, her senses were increased; her sense of smell, touch, taste, and especially her hearing were sharpened acutely - she could hear Haldir's harsh breathing of pain, the horse's labored breaths, the wargs' snarls, the pounding of hooves and paws against the earth...and her own heart pounding...pounding...

It was in this moment when she was lurched from the saddle within the arms of the captain, and both crashed to the ground. At first, she could not breathe, but as the air came back slowly, she opened her eyes. Celebrian held back a cry of fear as she felt his body go limp beneath her. _Elbereth...give me the strength...please..._ With all her might, she tried to move her arms...her feet - anything. But she could not. And the orcs were drawing closer.

The closer one spoke in a gruttal voice to the other, and though she was so desperately petrified, and though her body was afire, her mind was clear, and she glared with loathing at them as they approached her.

Mazbhal threw himself from the back of his beast, stalking through the grass to where his prey lay. She was afraid, he knew. He could smell it coming from her as she turned her glare upon him. "Look at what we have here," he breathed, bending down and taking a hold of her golden hair. "A frightened little elf, all alone." His laugh was low and dark. "Hello, pretty."

_All alone... Haldir..._ she thought in dismay, terror overcoming her and she shrank from the orc's touch, her green eyes defiant - though her heart grieved with a newfound loss. _He is...dead... Elbereth, guide him safely to Mandos...give me the strength to see through this...so that he had not died in vain..._

The second orc dismounted his warg, his eyes gleaming through the darkness. "A pretty one, eh?" he asked Mazbhal, saliva dripping from his bared fangs, his breathing ragged as he looked upon Celebrian. "She does not answer you," he growled to his leader as he knelt before her, thrusting his ugly face to hers.

"Did you know, Elf, that when someone speaks to you, you should reply?" he hissed, trailing a grimy claw down her pale cheek.

Celebrian spat in his face and tried to writhe away from both monsters, but the orc leader's hold upon her long locks only tightened and the other wiped her spit away, his eyes all the hungrier as he laughed gruttaly. "We should take her back to camp...and teach her some manners."

Mazbhal leered lustily and watched as the elf woman shivered. Oh, how he enjoyed when they shivered. It sent a thrill of want through him. Bending down, he wrapped cruel fingers around her arms and jerked her close, whispering, "A lesson is just what she needs. I think she may even enjoy it."

With a dark laugh, he sent his palm against her cheek for her struggles.

_A lesson..._ Seething with hatred, she glared into Mazbhal's leering face, trying to summon enough strength to her muscles so she could hit him. But no strength came...and frustration grew in her. Again, Celebrian felt a shiver run down her spine as he touched her and she cringed, hating herself for showing weakness. But she would not speak. She _would not_ speak to them. Not even in defiance.

The second-in-command grinned darkly. "Do you want to carry her? Or should I?" he asked his leader, licking his lips as he saw her shiver. Need clouded his mind as he took in her slight form, milky white in the moonlight.

Glaring darkly at his second, Mazbhal hissed, "You carry the witch, but make no mistake, she is mine first." His glare was a promise, one he had delivered to countless others, one he had made good on. That promise was a painful death. Unconsciously, his hand tightened around the hilt of his blade.

Grunting, he looked at the writhing elf within his grasp. Her green eyes struck him, so filled with loathing and hatred and fear. Licking his lips, he met her gaze full on, caressing his fingers down her soft jaw. Then with a laugh, he tossed her into the arms of his second and barked, "To the caves, boys! We're going to have us a little fun."

Celebrian surpressed a scream of rage and despair as she was thrown in front of the second as he swiftly mounted his vile beast behind her. She found enough strength within her to wriggle more forward, to escape the orc's touch, but his arms cruelly snaked around her, pressing her tightly against him as he urged his warg after Mazbhal's.

A shudder deeply shook her, and she closed her eyes, the burning feeling from her shoulder wound slowly seeping back into her conciousness. Despair so suddenly struck her, as forceful as the arrow had been. She knew what would befall her...she knew what they intended to do to her.

Celebrian's thoughts drifted in whirling circles; from Haldir, lifeless he had been beneath her, to Lothlorien, to the rutheless pain...gleaming yellow and red eyes...to Glormire, to her parents, to the shining sun...to her children...to Elrond...

_Elrond... Meleth nin..._ And, with that last thought, everything turned to darkness.

The orc felt her go limp before him, and curses spilled out from under his breath. He would have to revive her later. An evil smile spread across his malformed face. Ah yes...she would have to be revived.

Mazbhal's words crept back into his mind as they rode on through the night. _She is mine first..._ The second growled in defiance at the thought, yet he did not want to face death. There was so much to look forward to.

The elf woman's soft body against him was almost too much to bear...but they were almost to the camps... Almost...

The camp was as empty and untouched as they had left it, the entrance to the caves of the Misty Mountains just as bare. Mazbhal dismounted his beast and looked hungrily for his prey. His second was holding her against him, his hands roaming freely. The sight of it filled the orc captain with anger and with insatiable lust. A dark smile curled across his lips as he stalked forward.

In a voice of barely suppressed desire, Mazbhal pawed the golden hair and said throatily, "Give her to me." Raking his tongue across his sharp teeth, he took a hold of her fine dress and jerked her limp form from his commander, who was reluctant to part with her. The momentary hold he kept managed to see her dress ripped and then the second, realizing his error, perhaps by the glare he gave the one before him, let her go.

Mazbhal pulled her into his arms and smoothed the shoulder of her dress down, digging his nails into her skin. "Wake up, pretty."

She stirred and when she opened her eyes, there was a delightful expression of fear there. He laughed and dragged her into the darkness of the cave.

A soft wind danced through the trees outside his bedroom window. He watched the leaves dance with a mild expression, thinking on the turning of time. Soon these leaves would fall, marking the passage of another year. It would mark the return of Celebrian to her home here. The Lord of Imladris smiled gently, absently playing with the drape that hung beside the window. It was silky beneath his fingers, silky like her hair.

Elrond gazed at the stars, feeling content and very blessed. He always felt this way this time of year. In his youth he could recall the vigor of spring, but now he enjoyed the calm serenity of the coming fall. He took a deep breath. All was right.

Grumbling and snarling to himself, the second moved to take both wargs to one cave, tieing them up securely before making his way towards the cave in which his leader was dragging the woman.

How sweet and supple she felt as he had touched and held her... Even now, his blood pounded with the desire of the flesh, igniting his blood to an almost unbearable level of heat.

She was a prize, that one. An elf who seemed much more arrogant and regal than the other he had taken in Mirkwood, though all of these creatures seemed arrogant, always holding themselves high above all others. The second-in-command snorted, licking his lips. He had glimpsed, as he had held her, a jeweled ring upon her left hand and another one upon her right. This woman was indeed an elf of great importance, wherever she lived. Perhaps she was close kin to the elf witch who lived in the forestland that they could never enter, though they have tried many a time. The second laughed cruelly to himself. What better way to accomplish revenge against the hated elves than to take, forcefully, their own princess?

As Mazbhal was dragging her away into the darkness, Celebrian began gather herself to fight him. Though her shoulder burned and her body was yet unable to support itself, she struggled to regain her footing, pushing her screaming muscles to the limit. Blood dripped from where he had dug his claws into her her, the bright red of it contrasting sharply with her moon-pale skin. She knew that she could not escape, but she would not succumb to these foul beings without trying. Hatred and defiance spurred her and she lashed out with her fist, striking Mazbhal squarely on his neck.

The blow did not hurt as much as annoy and amuse Mazbhal. Ah, so she would try to fight. He relished the idea. Growling darkly, he jerked the struggling elf into one of the side rooms where things of this nature usually went on. Within there was no light, be he knew where the crude bed was almost instinctively. "You like to play rough, pretty elf?" he purred, running his hand down her cheek.

Her hands shoved at his shoulders, but he was firm in standing against her, allowing her some leeway to think there was a chance of escape, but keeping certain there was no real opportunity. Inwardly her passion for getting away made him want her all the more. Enflamed by that, he reached for her and ripped the front of her dress open.

Eyes wide and full of terror, she twisted her body away, trying to run, but her legs, it seemed, were made of sand, and the orc easily caught her back up in his arms and threw her forcefully to the bed. She held back a scream, biting her lower lip so hard that it bled. She could taste the blood in her mouth, nearly gagging her. But she would not scream...she _would not..._

His claws were now upon her, ripping away her raiment and some of her very skin as well, and she thrashed beneath him; his stank breath was hot upon her face, his weight pushing...pushing...

And then...it was all too real for Celebrian.

He could hear her breath, soft panting in the dark. Mazbhal listened intently from where he stood at the door, lingering in the sensations of what he had just done. She was weeping. Even the strongest wept afterwards. He enjoyed that, enjoyed it enough that he considered taking her again, forcing such violation on her. Elves deserved nothing less than this for their arrogance. And that most of all gave him pleasure, to put an elf in her place.

He inhaled the scent of her blood and body, reveling in it one last time as he opened the door and then slammed it shut. Outside the others waited anxiously for their turn and he would not deprive them. He was pleased by her, by his fortune and by the help he had from his men in gaining her. She was indeed fine, much finer than he had ever had. This one would have to be kept alive a long time.

He looked to his second with sated eyes, motioning him towards the door. "She's waiting," he breathed with a smirk, then headed towards the ale barrel.

The commander rose to his feet, his lust mounting ever higher as he stepped into the room, thrusting the door impatiently shut behind him.

She knelt in the corner where the bed met the wall, clothed in nothing but her sweat and blood-matted hair. Her breathing was ragged, her body ravaged and torn from Mazbhal's sharp claws and fangs. And she was trembling violently.

The orc licked his lips and stalked towards her. Ah...how she trembled. It sent a thrill through him.

Celebrian looked up, her eyes glazed with agony and horror. _Elbereth... Not again... No..._ She curled up tighter, her eyes closing, her thoughts whirling in anguish. When she felt the commander's rough touch on her arm, she reacted immediately, striking out with sudden force, her jeweled ring cutting into his face, leaving a gash down his cheek.

Angered and delighted by this sudden action, the commander caught her arms, drawing her close and then bore her down, laughing grutally, feeling her slender body stiffen beneath him.

"You're a pretty one," he growled in her ear, digging his hands into her locks, pulling her head up, exposing the delicate line of her throat. He trailed his mouth down it. "You would do well to stop fighting me, pretty."

His next words were lost in the torrent of rage and true despair that washed over her. As it began, she screwed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she began willing her mind somewhere else...she began willing herself not to feel the ravages he made upon her.

And only one name came through the red haze of all. _Elrond!_ came her mental scream...and she thought no more.

He had the gift of foresight. He saw many things, things that were years into the future and some things that were mere moments away. Sometimes it was not clear just which timeframe his visions captured. This was one such time.

Elrond could remember looking at the stars in content, then another place began writing over his vision, rock bleeding in through trees and fell voices mixing with the songs of night birds. He looked closer into the forests outside his room, peering as if within the shadows between the trees he could gain a better insight.

The insight he won from a better look was terrible. He could see dark forms moving in a dance of pain and torment. Golden hair bled down the side of a bed. He saw soft skin, bared so much so that he turned his eyes away in respect of the private thing that was playing out before his eyes. But then he realized what was happening was not love. He heard her voice muffled by an invasive kiss. He saw a dark form above her, forcing her arms back. Her face was obscured, but he knew without doubt it would be expressing pain and loathing.

And then he heard a voice that jarred him from his vision. The name she screamed was his own, betraying the identity of the victim. Elrond blinked and the imaged faded, replaced with the serenity of Rivendell. But in his heart there was nothing but panic. He turned, rushing towards his desk in search of the aid of Vilya.

When Celebrian at last came back to conciousness, she was aware of nothing save the pain from the torment she had endured. Moaning softly, she opened her eyes and began to slowly sit up when a sharp pain made her breath catch, and she eased back down again. Her shoulder...she could barely move her arm... Hesitantly, she reached with her other hand and touched it, and bit back a cry. How it burned...! She tore her eyes from her shoulder and looked down. Her hand...it was covered with black and blue marks...and a shallow gash ran down her palm. She gazed at it, almost listlessly, then she began to gently move once more to sit upright. Her whole body ached...not only ached. It hurt so much more than that...

She was alone in the shadows of the dark room. The orc's stench still lingered in the air, seeping into her very pores, it seemed. _Ai...Elbereth...why...?_ Tears blurred her vision as she ran her bloodied hand down her body, feeling the bruises and the gashes made from the orcs' hard fingers and sharp teeth and claws. She then set the back of her hand to her face, feeling her wounds and the dried tear trails. Celebrian blinked, and hot tears trickled down her cheeks, following those same trails, her slender form beginning to tremble. "Elrond..." she moaned, half delerious with pain of body, mind and heart. _"Meleth nin..."_

The second leaned back against the wall of the cave, a dark, satisfied smile spreading across his malformed face as he watched Mazbhal. "She fainted while I was in there with her," he grinned. "Went limp beneath me. Limp as a bonefish. Pliant and smooth...delicate." He licked his lips in remembrance. "A fine creature, that one. Finer than any other."

Mazbhal licked his lips hungry, dipping his finger in his ale. The cool, tart liquid bubbled against his filthy flesh. "Indeed, she is fine. Very fine. There will be Elves after her no doubt." He glared at the wall, remembering her screams, her warmth. He wanted of it again.

The commander nodded. "Yesss," he hissed. "Have you noticed those rings on her fingers? The other in the dark wood did not have jewels. This female is of an important line," he growled, taking a long swig of his ale. "There will be others looking for her. I wonder who she is."

The dark orc leader nodded his agreement. "She must be very dear to someone. Which makes me want her even more." He laughed darkly, picturing those frightened eyes. "Perhaps as I taste her again I will ask her if she has a husband. He may come for her and if he does we can kill him in front of her."

The second laughed, a harsh, grutal sound before he drained the last of his ale. "Are you going back to her now?" He could see Mazbhal's eyes, glinting with growing lust - he'd seen that look many times. "She deserves another visit from you, I think. But watch out for those rings of hers. She gashed me here," he said, trailing his finger down an oozing cut on his face. He looked at the blood on his claw and licked it off, savoring the taste in his mouth.

Pushing back his chair and gripping the rim of his belt, Mazbhal grinned at his second. "I think you are right. A visit would be nice. I will give her your love." A round of dirty laughter erupted throughout the room.

_She has gone from here, from the woods of her home._ Her voice was strong and clear, filled with an uncommon uncertainty as she spoke with him. Through the Rings of Power they possessed, Lord Elrond could speak with Galadriel, a gift he counted very precious this night. _You are troubled. I have felt something amiss. Tell me what you have seen._

His heart pained him to speak of what he had seen. _I saw her in torment. I fear for her._

There was a moment where the Lady of the Wood did not respond, presumably thinking or perhaps speaking with Celeborn. Elrond did not know, but every second increased his tension until she responded. _I will send Rumil to see if anything is wrong and consult the Mirror. Should I learn of her fate I will contact you._

Elrond whispered, _Hannon le,_ as he paced his room. He felt her presense disappear from his thoughts, leaving that coldness behind.

Mazbhal stalked through the halls until he came to the doorway where his little prize was being held. When he opened it he saw that she was awake. He licked his lips in anticipation. "Hello, pretty one." He looked at her hands for the rings his second spoke of. "Show me your hands."

Celebrian moved further away from him, towards the corner of the bed, bringing her knees to her chest, as if she could protect herself. She lifted her face to his, her eyes glimmering with tears of hatred and complete and utter loathing. Clenching her hands together, she moved them out of his sight, knowing now that he may discover her identity if he saw her rings...it must be why he was here. He had not taken notice of the rings before... Fear once again clutched her heart as he drew closer.

Seeing her defiance only fueled his fire as he bore down on her, fingers clenched. He licked his lips hungrily as he took in her bruised form. Reaching down, the orc slid his fingers through her golden hair, watching her as she drew away.

Mazbhal laughed at her, throwing her hair into her face. "You'll show me those pretties on your hands or I'll rip your fingers off one by one until I find what I seek." He rested a clawed hand on her naked shoulder, squeezing roughly. "Do you have a husband? Children...perhaps a daughter or two that look just like you?" Her furious glare answered some of those questions for him.

Celebrian tried to twist away from him, forcing her aching body to move. His hold upon her shoulder only tightened and she stifled a scream of pain and rage as his claws dug into her wound. Desperate, she struck him on the side of his cheek, close to his eye.

Angered and enflamed by her refusal, Mazbhal reached for her hair and dragged her forward towards him. Her large, beautiful eyes widened as he fixed a fearsome look upon her, then drew back his hand, sending it down into her cheek. But he did not let her drop, clutching her hair firmly as he hit her again and again.

Growling, he shoved her down when he feared she could stand no more. Elves were delicate creatures. She collasped to the bed and he took advantage, grabbing her hand and peering at her jewels. They were fine, very fine. Almost royal. His lips spread into a dark smile as he took hold, jerking one free of her hand.

He had taken her wedding ring. It was a beautiful thing; an opal that flashed with bits of white, green and blue set in intricately-spun mithril. She made a sound deep within her throat as he tore it from her finger; even through the ringing in her ears and the blur in her vision, she felt him take it.

Holding the jewel, Mazbhal examined it and grunted, sliding his glare over the ring to her shivering form. "This means you belong to someone, doesn't it? That's what you elves do, you exchange jewels?" When she failed to reply, he raised his voice to her, "DON'T YOU!?" He delighted in her startled jump.

Pocketing the ring, he sat down on the edge of the bed, looking her over as he grabbed for her shoulder again, jerking her close. When she was cradled in his arms he smoothed his hand invasively over her back, hissing, "Tell me of him. He must be a powerful lord to afford such a thing." Leaning close to her, his mouth near hers, he inhaled her soft, bloody scent. "How would you like to watch him die?"

She grew stiff against him, her lips parting slightly and her eyes widened, glazed with fear - but not for herself now. For her beloved. Then her eyes grew clouded once more.

"He would kill you before you could even raise your hand against him," she said, her voice low and hard - as hard as her eyes as they stared with fierce hatred up into his sickly yellow ones.

Mazbhal grinned, watching her face and all her lovely, terrified expressions. He pawed at her flesh as he continued speaking darkly to her. "Surely there is a number that can overcome him," he breathed into her ear, then darted his tongue out, licking up to the point. She struggled, but he held her still. "If they come for you, they will surely die. And...he will watch as I take you."

A deep shudder ran violently down her spine as she listened to his evil words. _He will watch as I take you..._ the sentence echoed in her mind. Celebrian's heart quailed, and she seemed frozen in fear as his hands roughly roamed freely over her body, his breath hot and heavy on her face. She tried to break free of him once more, but he had her in a vice-like grip.

Mazbhal grinned at her pained eyes, seeing the shame of her imaginations flitting across her beautiful face. He played on that, wanting to cause more terror, more sorrow. Pushing her to her back, he looked down in a mock-sweet way as he lay over her, winning a cry. "It would please me to see his face as I did this to you." He laughed, petting her hair. "Tell me, would he cry for you?"

She didn't answer that. With a dark growl he bit at her jawline, marking her with his teeth. Her scream was filled with despair. He liked that and lost himself to the desire he had been holding in for so long.

The pain was excrutiating...unbearable. Through the red haze of agony, Celebrian remembered an old trick that was used when one was hurting: to tell a story to block out the pain. _...There was Eru, the One, and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made..._

His yellow eyes gleamed into her own; mocking, laughing, cruel. She screwed her own eyes shut, so she would not have to look into his lustful, excited face.

_...And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him and he was glad..._

His claws were tearing into the flesh of her back and chest as he brought her closer...ever closer...

_...Then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and violas and organs, and like..._

His lips were on hers, his teeth catching on her delicate skin, his tongue probing deeper into her mouth, gagging her...

_...like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the theme of Eru to a great music, and a sound arose of endless interchanging melodies woven in harmony... that...that..._ The story slid from her grasp and all that was left was the endless pounding, the harsh thrusting, and the ugly sounds of pent-up desire that escaped his diseased mouth as he tore, bruised and ravaged.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks, and a rising scream threatened to burst from her. No longer could she suppress it, no matter how hard she tried, and she let it loose, a bloodcurling, heart-wrenching scream that resounded off the stone walls of the cave and far beyond into the dawn.

This is a story written by many authors who belong to the Role-playing Forum: Worlds Apart.

Silraen: Celebrian, and orc second-in-command

Ruse: Galadriel, Mazbhal, and Elrond

Navana: Celeborn

Miluiel: Haldir, Kemmotar, Kellendill, and Namnatur

MORE TO COME...


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